


Of Silk and Sorcery

by a_static_world



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Dresses, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Humor, Gwaine Being Gwaine (Merlin), M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, guinevere because i love her, gwaine and percy, just the knights because i love them, my loves, pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_static_world/pseuds/a_static_world
Summary: Arthur wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure why, but this had Merlin’s name written all over it.
Relationships: Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 375





	Of Silk and Sorcery

Arthur wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure _why_ , but this had Merlin’s name written all over it. 

Lies. 

He was _damn_ sure it was Merlin’s fault. His lovely, idiotic manservant/boyfriend/court sorcerer, whom he loved very much, had gotten in a habit of...experimenting with his magic lately. One day Arthur awoke to half the pigs in Camelot turned purple. Purple bacon, while interesting, was not a breakfast he wished to repeat. Another time, the King had been holding council when Leon, Gwaine, and Percival traipsed in, completely bald and utterly miserable. (To be fair, he’d _roared_ with laughter after feeling like his head was caught in a vice for three straight days, so. Upsides and whatnot.)

This, however, was beyond bald knights and colorful barnyard animals. Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, awoke that morning fully dressed. In a long, tight, crimson-and-gold silk ballgown, similar to what Morgana once wore. And he _couldn’t get it off_. Not in a unused-to-the-way-women’s-clothes-work way. In a the-fabric-was-magically-stuck-to-his-skin way. Merlin, like he’d heard Arthur’s irritation spike, tripped into his room as if on cue. Tripped because he, too, wore a frankly ridiculous dress, the color of which complimented his eyes quite nicely, if Arthur were to ever admit it. 

“Sorry, sire. Gwaine and Percival and Leon and Elyan are like this too, so I figured you would be as well. It seems to be all the men in the castle, really. Gaius is stuck in something that reveals _far_ too much of his...decolletage.” Merlin’s face crinkled in disgust as Arthur puzzled through everything he’d just said. If Merlin was stuck like this too, then... 

“Merlin, you mean to tell me this wasn’t you?”

“Um, no? I was asleep next to you until about an hour ago, at which point I woke up in a silk dress, went downstairs, and realized _hey, that’s strange, I didn’t realize Gwaine started wearing dresses on weekdays_ -”

“Okay, very funny. So if you didn’t do it, who did? And _why_ can none of us escape these infernal things?”

Merlin flopped back against the pillows, dress pooling in his lap as he hitched it up around his knees. His brow creased, fingers waving through the air as if he could physically encounter the answer there. Arthur sighed, leaning back against a post of their bed and resigning himself to waiting for Merlin’s answer.

“Well... since we decided that a magical registry was slightly suspicious and not the right first step to take in- all of this, we have no clue who it could be or how many sorcerers or sorceresses are even _in_ Camelot.” 

Arthur bit back a groan and slammed his head unceremoniously into the unyielding wood of the bed. Merlin, the dollophead, had the nerve to _laugh_ at his predicament. 

“I.” _Thud. “_ Am.” _Thud_ . “The.” _Thud._ “ _King.”_

“I have- court duties to attend to, Merlin! I can’t go dressed like _this_ !” Arthur was quickly becoming hysterical, he realized this. However, he was the King, god damn it all, and yes, he’d taken a different stance on magic than his father, but that in _no way_ meant he should be subject to this humiliation. 

“That’s gonna leave a bruise.”

“Merlin, gather the horses.”

Almost worse than being forced to wear a ballgown was trying to ride a horse in one. His knights looked _miserable_ , kitted out in full plate and mail and...skirts. Gwaine was the only one who looked mildly okay with this, and, based on what Merlin had said, Arthur wasn’t surprised. Percival’s arms, unused to captivity, were restless inside their canary-yellow enclosures. Leon, outfitted in a most shocking pink, looked as if he’d explode if anyone so much as looked him in the eye. Which Gwaine made a point to do. 

Repeatedly.

Elyan, surprisingly, looked nearly as comfortable as Gwaine. When Arthur met his eye, raising an eyebrow, Elyan blushed, explaining that Guinevere used to make him play dress-up with her. Speaking of Gwen, she had been _absolutely_ no help thus far. Currently, she was clutching at the saddle of Merlin’s horse, nearly crying with laughter as Merlin tried desperately to position himself astride. She bent over, wheezing, as Merlin threw his hands in the air and conceded defeat, settling himself gingerly down sidesaddle and arranging his slate-grey silks. Arthur struggled onto his own horse as Gwaine rode circles around them all, hair (and dress) flapping in the breeze, knees pitched in a near-perfect duchess slant. 

“Oh, come on, lads, put your backs into it! If I can do it-”

“Shut _up,_ Gwaine!”

Good to know they were all on the same page, then. Gwaine grumbled as he rode primly away, something about being called Gwainnifer that made Gwen start crying again as she excused herself from the group, wishing them luck through bouts of giggling. Arthur looked grimly around at the group of jewel-toned knights, all uncomfortably sat sidesaddle and looking to the world like a group of men most unfit for battle. Well, no better way out than through. And so Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, Merlin’s boyfriend, sat daintily on his saddle and led his men into the forest.

Through the back exit. 

As usual, Merlin rode to his right, the place of honor not so much awarded as filled by Merlin when he came, quickly becoming “Merlin’s place” in the hierarchy of their rides. It stemmed, Arthur supposed, from when he was hell-bent on protecting the prince; and, caring little for tradition or propriety, he’d placed himself at the largest point of proximity. More unusually, he remained quiet throughout the ride, brow furrowed and eyes lost in thought, trusting his horse and Arthur to keep him from riding off the edge of a cliff. 

“If the wind changes, your face’ll get stuck like that, didn’t you know?”

Arthur straightened his own face as Merlin’s head whipped towards him. 

_Come on. Play with me. Stop looking like it’s the end of the world that we’re stuck in some dresses._

To his relief Merlin smiled, the crease between his brows lessening but not leaving as he sighed. 

“Sorry, Arthur. I’m just trying to think of all the people you may have insulted, well, ever. Turns out it’s quite a long list.” 

Arthur made an indignant noise in the back of his throat. He did _not_ insult people that often, thank you very much. Merlin only got the brunt of it because he deserved it, and he said as much just to watch his boyfriend’s face twist. 

“Excuse me. If I remember correctly, the _first_ time we met you insulted me and then _attacked me with a mace._ Which I then had to use magic to protect myself from.”

“You insulted me first!”

Arthur had almost been willing to let the conversation drop when-

“Hang on, you _openly_ used magic. On your _first day in Camelot_ . To win a fight against the _son_ of the man who would have you killed for doing so. How. How did you even survive, you absolute _idiot_.” 

Merlin sheepishly raised his hands in defeat, opening his mouth to defend himself from Arthur’s (completely justified) accusations when Gwaine’s voice, ringing out from the back, cut him off. 

“In case you lovebirds were too caught up in arguing with each other to notice, the sky’s gone rather dark. I say we camp here for the night, eh?” 

Merlin grabbed onto his suggestion, wasting no time in sliding down from his horse (without rucking his skirts up in the process, damn him) and magicking their campsite up, complete with blazing fire and thick canvas tents. The knights groaned appreciatively as they settled around the fire, and Arthur took his opportunity to drag Merlin aside and kiss him senseless. 

“I also distinctly remember you saying, not five minutes after we met, that you could take me apart with less than one blow. Care to try?”

Soundproofing spells. Something Arthur appreciated greatly, as he, in the words of his tender and loving partner, “had trouble keeping his big fat mouth shut.” Quite rich, coming from- _ngk_. 

Thoughts for later. 

Thoroughly debauched, they stumbled back to camp, all of the knights politely pretending not to notice their (far too long) joint absence. It- _this_ was never something they’d had to hide, at least, not from the knights. They’d had a betting pool, Arthur had found out. Started by _Leon_ , of all people, and _Merlin_ knew about it, the bastard. Guinevere apparently sunk a small amount of every paycheck betting on Arthur’s birthday, which the knights claimed as cheating due to her friendship with Merlin. (She won, with Gwaine coming in a close second.) 

Arthur was touched, as foolish as it sounds. He’d grown up surrounded by noble children, all pawns in their parents’ ploys for power, and learned rather quickly to not trust anyone, ever. To have a group of men, so closely dedicated to Camelot but also to him, both as King Arthur and just plain Arthur, it felt _good._ That they felt comfortable enough with him to even think of betting on his love life, Merlin’d said, it proved that he was already better than Uther. As much as it pained him, comparing himself to the man he’d spent his entire life trying to prove himself to, Arthur had been forced to concede. 

That, and Merlin’s perilously persuasive tongue.

Gwaine interrupted his reverie by crashing into camp, periwinkle-blue dress drenched in blood and face white as a ghost. Before Arthur could even react, Percival had caught the other man, Merlin hurrying around the fire to his side. 

“Gwaine, why the _fuck_ are you covered in blood?” Percival demanded, as angry and worried as Arthur had ever heard him.

“Sexy reasons,” Gwaine grunted, wincing as Merlin began to probe his abdomen. 

“Also, I definitely got stabbed. That lady was _not_ very nice.”

The air around camp grew impossibly tenser as Gwaine promptly passed out, causing that damn wrinkle in Merlin’s brow to come back in full force. Arthur shot a glance at Leon, who quickly stepped close to murmur in his ear.

“He went out to collect firewood, sire. While you and Merlin were, erm, _occupied._ ”

God damn Arthur and his body’s willingness to turn a shade of red most unfit for a King. So, while Merlin had Arthur’s cock in his mouth, Gwaine was collecting firewood and getting shanked in the forest by a mystery woman. Unfortunately this counted as not far from normal, and Arthur only sighed as he turned to face Merlin, Percival, and a freshly-awoken Gwaine, resting in Percival’s lap and looked all too pleased for a man who had literally _just_ been stabbed. 

“This woman, Gwaine, what did she look like?”

“Fit enough, red hair, about yea high.” He gestured at Elyan, flinching as the movement strained what Merlin’s face said was a fairly serious wound. Arthur didn’t miss the way Percival’s hand threaded through the other man’s hair, or the way Gwaine’s face eased when he did. _Oh_. So it was like that.

“Oh! She stabbed me with magic, and she was wearing trousers.”

“ _What.”_

The not-so question rang out from all sides, along with the sound of drawn steel. Merlin looked up, worried. Arthur knew, of course, that many were not yet...amenable, to the idea of magic. However, as everyone had just watched Merlin heal Gwaine in a matter of minutes, he assumed the reaction was more to do with the fact that she’d stabbed one of their own. Hopefully. He cleared his throat, desperate to regain control. He didn’t particularly like the way Sir Egan was eyeing Merlin.

“We can’t do anything until morning. It’s far too dark right now, and we’re all exhausted. We’ll post watch; Gwaine, you are exempt. Tomorrow we seek out and question this woman- I’ve a feeling she’s the one who put us in this...predicament.”

Arthur grimaced as he gestured to his dress. The night was quickly cooling, and the thin silk did nothing against the chill. He shivered as Leon dispersed the knights, quickly setting up a watch schedule before dismissing them to their tents. Merlin fussed over Gwaine for a few moments more before nudging him towards a tent, smirking as Percival followed to “ensure his comfort.” As much as Merlin complained about being Gaius’ apprentice, Arthur-and anyone who cared to look, really- could see it was what he was meant to do. The way his face went softer talking to a patient, the way his brow drew in when he worked, the care and thought that went into every movement of his lithe fingers. Every inch of Merlin seemed ready-made for healing. Said apprentice caught Arthur’s eye as he turned around, smiling gently despite the blood on his hands. _Go wash up_ , Arthur mouthed, before turning towards their tent.

Merlin cheated, magicking his hands clean and ambling across camp to kiss Arthur before ducking inside the canvas, skirt swirling in his wake. 

It proved to be quite easy, finding their sorceress. They awoke just after dawn to Leon shouting, knights in silk spilling out of the tents every which way, blearily drawing swords and stretching. Arthur ducked under Gwaine’s outstretched arm, marching towards Leon with a vigor he did not entirely feel. The woman was indeed about Elyan’s height, dressed simply in a blouse and trousers, short red hair framing her face. Her hands were held fast behind her back by Leon, who again looked deeply uncomfortable in his dress. 

“So, my lady, I’m assuming you’re the one who has caused us this misfortune?”

The woman only cackled wildly, swaying in Leon’s grip. 

“The only misfortune is that which you find in yourself. Accept it, and the byproducts will disappear.” 

She leaned back into Leon’s arms, giggling, and attempted to plant a kiss on his cheek. Leon, bright red, attempted to explain. 

“She appears to be quite drunk, sire. Shall we take her back to Camelot?”

“No, Leon, let her go. I think I know how to get us out of this mess.”

Leon released the woman, perhaps with a bit too much relief. She staggered off into the wood, singing a bawdy tune about a knight, and soon disappeared over the nearest hill. Merlin broke the silence first.

“Well, that was mildly horrifying. How do we get out of these?”

“You...you have to accept it, I think. Correct me if I’m mistaken, Sir Gwaine, but I’ll bet you’re able to slip in and out of that dress as you please.”

Gwaine only grinned. “Ask Percival,” he said through a mouthful of gruel, the knight in question turning scarlet almost immediately. Arthur pinched his eyes shut. Of _course_ Gwaine had only kept the dress on to show off. _Alright, Pendragon, time to test this out._

“The dress...isn’t bad, if I’m honest. There’s a nice, uh, breeze, around my legs, when I walk, and I, ehm, quite like the color.” Merlin sniggered somewhere to his left, and Arthur scowled before opening his mouth to continue. He soon found he didn’t need to, however, as the laces to the dress suddenly loosened, the seams dissolving, causing him to clutch at the material lest the knights see rather _more_ than they were sworn to. 

Suddenly, the camp was abuzz with the voices of the knights, reassuring their dresses that they were pretty, the silk was soft, the color brought out their eyes, and every other manner of soft and tender thing they’d likely never heard, much less directed at themselves. And, like clockwork, the dresses loosened and the knights were freed. 

The ride back to Camelot was...interesting. It isn’t every day one sees Camelot’s most elite, the King, and the King’s consort riding back into the Citadel clutching scraps of silk to their, ah, _altogether_. 

“Not a word,” Arthur warned, the group hastily nodding before scurrying off to their respective corners to redress and regroup. Merlin managed to make it all the way to Arthur’s quarters before collapsing into laughter, struggling to keep upright as he staggered into the room. Oh, the _bastard._

“It _was_ you, wasn’t it? Merlin, for god’s sake-”

“You- and the- knights- take everything- so seriously- Leon’s _face-”_ Merlin was nearly hyperventilating at this point, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes as his face reddened with mirth. He breathed, finally, blowing a long breath out through his mouth before meeting Arthur’s eyes. 

“It wasn’t hard, finding a wild Druid woman in the wood who was...susceptible, to my suggestions. I was not planning on her stabbing Gwaine, I promise you that. It was originally just supposed to be Sir Egan. He said something last week about me being a weak, magic-dependent pansy, so I thought what better way to respond than a little humiliation? That’s the problem with outsourcing, though. It all gets a little...hazy.”

Oh, Sir Egan was far from dealt with. Arthur only sighed, moving to flop on the bed next to Merlin. 

“Next time someone gives you trouble, _please_ just let me know. I don’t think poor Leon’s heart-or mine, for that matter- can take any more of this.” 

Merlin grinned, sharp and wicked in a way that made Arthur’s aforementioned heart twist. 

“I don’t think it’s your heart you should be worried about.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi yes the druid woman is based on me and also on that one tumblr post  
> because i love sir leon and also being cryptic  
> also based on a tumblr post by incorrectmerlinquotes ("covered in blood for sexy reasons")  
> gwainnifer is me and anoddconstellationofthoughts' baby  
> I have been working on this for so long because no motivation a ha ha  
> come find me @astaticworld on tumblr and we can chat :) please :)


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